


MITHRIDATISM

by swordgoth



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: A Side Serving of Achilles/Patroclus, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant "Character Death" (i.e. Zagreus Still Won't Stay Dead), Childhood Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Spoilers, Sex (eventually), some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordgoth/pseuds/swordgoth
Summary: (n) the practice of developing immunity to a poison by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts.An AU in which Persephone revives Zagreus on the surface, and Thanatos has to spend his entire life dealing with Zagreus' repeated attempts to break into the Underworld.
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 370





	1. Chapter 1

Thanatos is born within the House of Hades, under cloak of hushed and swirling darkness. His first memory is of his mother’s embrace, warm and ever so gentle, as though he and his twin brother might be anything less than the descendants of Titans. Mother told him once that the halls would shiver as she sang them to sleep, but that they would simply giggle and burble along with the echoing timbre of her voice. That was how she first knew love, she said.

❧

His second memory is of a towering man with blazing eyes and a coarse, dark beard. The Lord of the Underworld cuts an imposing figure, tall as a mausoleum and equally as foreboding even when seated. From where he is standing next to Nyx, Thanatos can just see a small stack of scrolls piled neatly on the desk, each signed and sealed with wax. Lord Hades works clerically with his phoenix feather quill, writing with long, loping strokes.

Thanatos wonders if his hand ever gets sore.

“ _So_.” Lord Hades’ voice does not boom as much as it rolls and rumbles like the earth itself splitting open. Hypnos, nodding off at Nyx’s other side, jumps, startled awake. “ _You would have your children work alongside you under my employ, Nyx? Though the toil is difficult, and the living never cease to die?”_

“If it pleases you, Lord Hades,” Nyx says, “my children cannot safely exist in this age of Olympian Gods without your sworn patronage.” Her expression remains unchanged, but her eyes flick just off to the side, as though briefly seeking something. “Like any mother, I care for them; I alone cannot ensure their survival, and therefore I beseech your aid.”

Lord Hades scoffs and dips his quill into an inkwell. “ _What use do I have for children, Nyx? That curly one there with the mop of hair can hardly hold himself upright. I thought you more sensible than that._ ”

Nyx says nothing, but Thanatos can feel her squeeze his hand.

“I can clean, sir. And I’m strong. Mother says I will inherit the dominion of Death, someday.” Thanatos feels the silence break beneath the sound of his voice. The Lord of the Underworld turns his gaze onto him, and Thanatos feels infinitesimally small. He starts to tremble, but does his best to stand up straighter.

The moment hangs for an eternity, but is over in an instant, when a woman like sunlight steps up beside Lord Hades’ throne and places a hand on his shoulder. Her soft flaxen braid drapes over her warm, tanned shoulder as she leans over and murmurs something. When he mutters something back to her, she tweaks his nose in admonishment, much to Thanatos’ shock.

Then she laughs and ducks out of view.

Lord Hades runs a hand down his face and lets out a heavy sigh. Thanatos thinks that, for just a moment, he sees the God’s stony face twist into a smile. When he turns back to Thanatos, however, the expression is wiped clean. “ _Do not speak unless addressed, boy. That is the first rule of the House.”_ He pauses and casts a glance over his shoulder. _“See that you remember it, if you are to work within this House._ ”

“Thank you, my Lord. Your benevolence will not go unanswered.” Nyx sweeps out in a deep, gracious bow.

“ _I expect you will not disappoint. You are dismissed._ ”

As Nyx ushers Thanatos and Hypnos out of the central chamber, he catches a glimpse of the woman again. She sits in a bejeweled seat just behind Lord Hades, with one hand smoothed gently over a slight bulge in her belly.

❧

Lord Hades provides what he can for his new vassals. That is to say, a set of bedchambers are built for Thanatos and his brother just beyond the main hall. The rooms are sparsely decorated, to say the least. There is a single bed with plain sheets and a single pillow, a shallow, oak wardrobe, and a battered desk complete with a single chair. The walls are adorned with a single mirror and studded with simple, ever-burning torches that dim to a flicker when night falls on the surface world.

It is impersonal and strange, especially now that they sleep separate from their mother. Periodically, Hypnos wanders into Thanatos’ room in the early hours of the night and crawls under the covers with him. Thanatos allows as much.

Nyx manages to procure a few personal items for the two of them, despite the Underworld’s distinct lack of amenities for children. A large, red comforter with woolen lining for Hypnos. A small, strangely-stitched plush mouse with dark button eyes for Thanatos. It’s not much, and yet it means the world to Thanatos to have a keepsake. He names it Mort, and dubs it his constant companion, carrying it in a small pouch at his side at all times.

❧

After several idle months, a training room is commissioned for the House. It is carved into the East wing. Through the cordoned-off archway, Thanatos catches glimpses of the spacious marble floor, lit a ghostly purple and grey, but can see no further than that. He imagines it must be expansive if he cannot see the back wall.

The construction shades usher him away irritably each time he tries to sneak a closer look.

Upon completion, he is called there anyways by Lord Hades himself.

❧

“My Lord… he is naught but a young boy.”

“ _He is a son of the Goddess, Nyx,”_ Lord Hades affirms, slamming the sauroter of his own spear into the ground, “ _and he wishes to work for his place in this House. That is the contract he is bound to. I will require strength of him once he is grown._ ”

Thanatos looks up in wonderment as the shade of the great hero, Achilles, stares back at him, dumbfounded. Despite his towering stature and sturdy build, Achilles speaks softly and moves with a purposeful grace, like a bow permanently pulled taught. Tumbling golden hair frames his face: a strong jaw, full lips, and pale blue eyes painted with sorrow. _He is beautiful_ , Thanatos thinks to himself.

“And you would have me patrol with him through the depths of the Underworld to train him? Is not the surface plenty safe for -”

The God of the Underworld laughs. “ _It is not your place to question me, shade, nor will I allow it. You will see to it that he is able to fulfill his contract, lest I void yours. Have I made myself clear?_ ”

Achilles’ mouth twitches, but he bows his head. “Yes, my Lord.”

❧

Occasionally, Thanatos sees the golden woman on the way to and from the garden. Her round stomach seems to grow at every passing.

❧

Thanatos’ schedule becomes more packed. In the mornings, he and Hypnos clean the House from top to bottom, and in the afternoons, he is called to the training chambers.

As it would happen, wielding a spear with a child’s small hands is no easy feat. This makes Thanatos’ training exceedingly difficult.

Achilles tutors him with deliberate patience despite this. Sometimes their time spent together is all in drills and form. Hours crawl by as Achilles corrects Thanatos’ posture (“ _Keep your feet apart, lad. A wide stance will balance you as much as it will ground you.”)_ , the angle of his jabs (“ _The butt of your spear is as much a weapon as the head itself. Utilize it, and you will never have blind spots.”)_ , and the arc of his slashes (“ _Remember that your weapon is an extension of your will. Do not falter, and your enemies will always fall before you._ ”).

Other times, they are caught in the ebb and flow of practical sparring. The training hall echoes with the shuffling of feet and the clashing of blades. Thanatos becomes acquainted with the tile as, time and time again, he is tripped, knocked down, or disarmed and thrown to the ground. Even in non-lethal combat, Achilles is a silent storm. He moves like thunder and strikes like lightning, though Thanatos most fears the darkness in his eyes, distant and unfamiliar. What’s worse, Achilles accelerates each time Thanatos begins to keep up, as though toying with him.

And yet, in the panting moments or reprieve before Achilles help stand him up again, Thanatos cannot help the pride that swells in his chest. To be trained by the greatest of the Greeks is, in and of itself, a gift beyond words.

Within weeks, rough calluses form on the palms of Thanatos’ hands. When he displays them to his mentor, the shade simply looks pained.

❧

One day, when Achilles deems it fitting, they set aside their weapons and spend their day in pensive meditation, “ _for your mind and the heart must never become clouded,_ ” Achilles says. “Never lose yourself to the tide of battle.”

“What am I supposed to think about?” Thanatos asks, trying to get comfortable.

“Slow the beating of your heart and listen. Remember what it is to live and breathe. Think softly of your loved ones.” Achilles closes his eyes, and shortly falls silent.

Thanatos attempts to follow suit, but after a moment, decides he does not understand. Cracking open one eye, he peers over at his mentor, who seemingly has not moved. “Sir, how will this help me in combat?”

“That is for you to decide, Thanatos. Now hush.”

The stillness of the room brings no epiphanies, and Thanatos finds himself accidentally drifting off instead, much to his embarrassment. When an amused Achilles shakes him awake hours later, he apologizes fervently.

“No need to worry, lad,” Achilles chuckles brightly. “Mindfulness, like skill, is something you only gain through practice. There will be more quiet days like this one.”

❧

It is on a quiet day that something happens in the House of Hades.

An anguished roar rips through the foundation of the Underworld, shaking dust and stone loose from the ceiling.

Perhaps it was merely a childish assumption, but Thanatos did not believe elder Gods capable of pain. His own mother, for example, remained staunchly unfazed by anything Thanatos or Hypnos had ever gotten themselves into. And yet, Lord Hades’ cry scatters servants through the halls and sends cracks spiraling up the reliefs carved into the walls of the training chamber.

In a flash of green and gold, his mentor appears at his side, spear in hand. Achilles’ cloak falls protectively over Thanatos as the shade knocks away a tumbling chunk of marble with a calculated swing. “Stay behind me, lad,” he commands.

“What’s going on?” Thanatos clings to Achilles’ side, eyes wide as the man defends them with disastrous accuracy.

And then, between the collapsing rubble, two dark figures enter the chamber, heading straight for the single, large window on the Eastern wall. The first is familiar, draped in flowing back fabrics that twinkle with mysterious light. Her hair drifts slowly behind her as she guides the second figure, a sobbing mass rendered unrecognizable by an impenetrable magical Darkness, with hurried purpose. “Mother?” Thanatos tries to call out to her, but his voice is choked to a whisper fear.

As though on instinct, Nyx looks at him over her shoulder. Her serene features are marred with an inexplicable grief, yet she still offers him a smile.

Lord Hades bellows again, and Thanatos’ mother throws herself and her concealed charge through the stained glass pane as a boulder comes crashing down behind them.

❧

Nyx does not return until after the dust has settled. Her eyes are sunken from exhaustion, and her movement is halting, sluggish. Yet she does not falter as she enters the bedchambers of Lord Hades.

❧

The whispering shades fill every darkened corner of the House. A death in the family. The Queen is gone, and the unbreathing body of the babe vanished with her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood, blissful and curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference: Thanatos was around 3 or 4 years old when we last left off. He will be about 12 years old by the end of this chapter, so Zagreus will be about 8.
> 
> Author's notes (very teary and grateful) can be found at the end of the chapter!

Lord Hades seals off the garden first. A large stone wall is erected right in the entryway, and once the contractor finishes polishing away the edges, it is almost too easy to forget that the small grove had ever existed. Thanatos had only been in there once, beckoned by his mother to help pick low-hanging pomegranates from the shaded trees. It was a wholly unique experience. Here in the Underworld, not many things truly grow; Thanatos knows little of the living. Many of the other servants know even less.

The Queen was the garden’s only regular visitor, and yet the whole House feels its absence nigh immediately. Or perhaps it is her absence that leaves them hollow. Any joyous noise or bright laughter that once filled the space from floor to ceiling disappears into vacuous silence.

That is the only obvious change for days. The morning after the event, the Lord of the Underworld emerges from his bedchambers unfazed, much to the shock of all who had been present for the shaking and wailing. He punctually arrives at his station and meticulously goes about his filing, quill in hand, until night falls and he retires to his chambers once again. He responds less – no, he does not respond at all – to niceties and idle greetings. As time passes though, an obvious furrow darkens his brow.

When he finally speaks again, it is to offer scathing reproach. One of the duty-bound, clerical shades fails to bring Lord Hades a form as per request, and is laid out in front of the entire central hall with a rebuke that can be heard from the offices to the back of the lounge. The shade flees the room, sobbing, and does not return.

Without his Queen, the Lord of the Underworld withers.

❧

Hypnos floats first. It comes naturally to him. One moment, he’s resting in the corner of the training hall, where he’d taken to snoozing while Thanatos and Achilles spar ( _“It makes me sleepy just watching you two circle each other like that.”_ ), and the next, he startles them both with a yelp as he crashes to the tiled floor.

“ _Owowow_ —did you see that Thanatos?” Hypnos breaks out into a wide grin despite his sore bottom. “I did it – I flew a little! Got a few inches off the ground just now while I was daydreaming about birds.”

“No fair!” Thanatos jogs over to help his twin up, but Hypnos is already steadily rising off the ground again, hovering with his legs neatly crossed. “I’ve been trying to do that for years, but you did it without even trying? Teach me how.”

“I don’t know if I can, since I might just be stronger and more powerful than you, brother,” Hypnos chimes, propping his chin on his hands mischievously.

Much to Achilles’ amusement, Thanatos tosses his spear aside and cracks his knuckles. “We’ll see about that.”

The rest of the day is lost to childish wrestling and failed flight tutoring.

❧

“Mother?” Thanatos asks, staring out at the trickle of ghastly shades emerging from the pool in the heart of Tartarus. They are incorporeal, and yet the blood-red water of the Styx runs off them in rivulets.

“Yes, my son?”

“Will I ever die?”

Nyx smiles down at him, as though amused by the question. “Beings like you and I do not have the capacity to fade away as mortals do.”

“So, we are different from them.”

“Nay, child.” She shakes her head slowly, her hair following in slow waves. “We are very much the same. We feel joy and rage as they do. Love and hatred, as well. Immortality does not save us from foolish behavior. We are not dissimilar from mortals, despite being their eternal overseers.”

❧

After a time, the only person bold enough to speak with Lord Hades is Nyx. Sometimes, Thanatos’ mother beckons Lord Hades aside and speaks to him in a hushed tone, stolid and grounding. Other times, she confronts him at his desk, curtly demanding an audience. Their disagreements poison the air with a thick, suffocating anger and clear the central chamber at the drop of a hat. None are privy to the details of their talks, but Thanatos knows that Nyx must command some standing, as the Lord of the Underworld has not boiled her blood, or something less pleasant; He more frequently than not relents and dismisses her with a brusque “Do as you will, then.”

At one point, Thanatos had approached her about it, asking why she does not fear the Lord of the Underworld. “He is not a gentle man,” Nyx had said, crossing her arms delicately, “but he is not an unduly cruel one. He has a respect for me, both as someone who has served at his side for many years, and as the safeguard of his deepest secrets.”

None of that respect seems to trickle down to her children though, and even Nyx’s insistence proves unable to prevent additional duties coming down on Thanatos and Hypnos; an excitable, young gorgon is hired on to clean the House in their stead, and they are, in turn, given more arduous duties around the House.

“ _There is no place here for idle hands,”_ Lord Hades says as Hypnos and Thanatos appear before again him in his court. He does not look at them. His soured expression is determinedly turned towards the parchment before him. There is a clinking noise as his ink quill is dipped twice. _“Summarily, you will be assigned to labor suiting of your skillsets.”_

Hypnos looks over at Thanatos, unsure if he should say anything. His eyes are still a little crusted with sleep, roused from another nap to attend their summons, and he’s still got his blanket pulled around his shoulders.

“ _The shades in the archival office are seeking a new clerk who will perform at a level functionally above dismal. I trust, Hypnos, that you will manage at least that.”_ Finally, he lifts his gaze and needlessly levels them with a heavy stare.

“Oh, yes, of course, sir,” Hypnos squeaks, snapping to a salute as he nods his head vigorously. “I will make sure to clerk those files so functionally.”

This is apparently enough for Lord Hades, as he snorts and turns towards Thanatos next with the same dark expression. Thanatos holds his breath. “ _As for you, Thanatos: relay to your instructor that I expect you on patrol when next the sun rises. The Underworld has a reputation to uphold as a singularly inescapable destination. Souls do not freely come and go without my blessing, and you will see to it that it stays this way._ ”

Thanatos nods slowly, not daring to break eye contact. “Yes, Lord Hades,” he murmurs.

❧

Achilles wordlessly shakes him awake just before the infernal torches begin to glow for daybreak, and even helps untangle him from his sleeping twin brother. Thanatos pulls on his favorite chiton, a deep grey one with gold trim, to mark the occasion. On their way out, they pass Nyx, who nods slowly to Achilles. The shade offers her a nod in return, and she floats into Thanatos’ bedroom, presumably to rouse Hypnos for his first shift in the Archives.

The central hall is empty, save for a few shades who arrived to line up early and a handful of servants also beginning their daily tasks. From inside the lit lounge, various chopping and sizzling sounds can be heard from inside where the cook is already hard at work preparing for the breakfast rush. Thanatos does not need to eat, in the same way he does not need to sleep, but he still laments not having a moment for breakfast as Achilles steers him past it and into the training hall.

“Since we can no longer exit through the garden, you and I will leave through the window,” Achilles says. It’s the first thing that he’s said since Thanatos broke the news of his employment last night. The shade pulls a requisitioned spear off the weapons rack and hands it to him. “Are you alright to jump down on your own, lad? I will go first, and if you need me to catch you, I shall.”

“I’ll be fine,” Thanatos says, peering through the still-shattered pane and down to the landing. And he is, though the soles of his feet tingle when he hits the ground. He hops back and forth, puffing, until the light ache settles again. “See? Fine.”

“That you are, lad,” Achilles chuckles, amusement gently lighting his eyes. He looks out of place, the soft greens of his cloak drawing him in sharp contrast to the stone-hewn corridor. The red glow of the Styx casts a harsh light along the planes and valleys of his face, deepening the shadows beneath his eyes. Out here among the dead, Achilles looks formidable, almost ominous. “Shall we? It’s a long trek to the Temple of Styx, and you must become acquainted with the Underworld’s guardians along the way, so that they do not attempt to harm you in the future.”

Achilles sets a brisk pace, and Thanatos bobs along at his side, striding longer to keep up with his mentor. The way out is winding and strange, and each layer of the Underworld bears its own distinct characteristics. Thanatos knows Tartarus already. The main House is unmatched in grandeur, but the vacant cold and shifting shadows seep through the crevices, and the soft moans and screams of the dead crawl all the same. After ten or so rooms, they enter a chamber that looks largely empty aside from a handful of pillars and the pressure traps that line the walls.

“Megaera,” Achilles calls as they enter. “My apprentice and I are passing through.”

After a moment, a girl steps out from behind a nearby column. By her face, Thanatos guesses that she might be barely older than Thanatos, but she still stands at Achilles’ shoulder-height. From her back bursts a single black wing, and at her hip is a whip that practically glows with malice. Her face is sharp, with a blue pallor that brings out the fiery gold of her eyes, and her hair is pulled tightly back in a perfect ponytail. Unconsciously, Thanatos brushes a loose strand of his own hair behind his ear. “See to it that you pass quickly then, shade.” The girl, Megaera, curls her fingers around the bladed handle of her gives weapon and pins Thanatos with an unimpressed once-over. “I have work to do, and do not wish to be held here any longer than necessary.”

“The Erinyes are all of strict disposition,” Achilles murmurs as he beckons for Thanatos to follow him across the room. “But I find that Megaera has her charms once she gets used to you.”

Thanatos suspects that he will have to get used to _her_ first, but that doesn’t stop him from offering her a curt nod as they pass. He’s surprised when she returns it.

The rest of the Underworld is unremarkable for the most part. Achilles navigates them easily through Asphodel, and almost hurriedly through Elysium. Thanatos is quick to notice how stiffly his mentor walks forward, as though he doesn’t dare look about, but says nothing about it.

They travel all the way to the very top of the Underworld, to a place that smells rotten. Thanatos’ face twists into a grimace as a vermin skitters across the ground in front of them, barely clearing Achilles’ foot before slipping between a barred gate.

“This is the surface?” Thanatos blurts out. “It’s disgusting.”

Achilles chuckles and points down the corridor. Following his finger, Thanatos’ eyes wander up the corridor and settle on a looming, beast-like shadow in the dark. “I’m afraid not, lad. The surface is further yet.”

The God of the Underworld’s personal hellhound, Cerberus, emerges from the shadows, as though summoned by their presence in the Temple of Styx. Behind his three dutiful heads – two snarling, and one simply watching – stands a set of stone doors taller than Lord Hades himself. Even at this distance, Thanatos can tell that this gate, which blocks the yawning mouth of the Underworld from eking out into the Surface, is ancient beyond words. He cannot make out the reliefs carved into the marble. He cannot begin to know what force might be needed to swing them open. But as they stretch up into the shadowed cavern, Thanatos thinks inexplicably of Atlas bracing the heavens on his shoulders, ever-broad.

 _And from beyond the gate, he feels_ –

“Thanatos, where are you going?” A firm hand on his shoulder reels him back a few steps. Startled, he looks back over his shoulder at Achilles, who looks equal parts confused and concerned. “If you step any closer without proper treats, Cerberus will surely bare his teeth at you.”

He doesn’t remember stepping forward, but that certainly doesn’t stop him from returning to his mentor’s side. Seeing this, Cerberus leans back onto his massive haunches again, all six eyes trained warily on the little god. Thanatos looks from the Hellhound to the door, and then back again.

❧

“Oh man, I’m beat!” Hypnos drifts into Thanatos’ room, scratching his jaw as he sighs with his whole body. He flops onto Thanatos’ bed and stretches out across the comforter. “This work thing sure takes it out of you, huh Thanatos? They don’t let you take naps on the clock or anything. No snacking either – can you believe it? I know we don’t need to eat to survive, but I still _like_ food.”

Thanatos hums from his desk. Rag in hand, he cleans the head of his spear until it shines.

Hypnos peels back the bedsheets and settles down. “So what’s it like out there? You know, Tartarus and beyond.” Thanatos’ brother rolls onto his back and folds his hands behind his head, staring up at the overhead torches with a neutral expression. He drags a finger over the bed cover, doodling formless impressions into the mattress. “I dream about the outside world all the time, but I’m not allowed to go see it yet.”

“It’s big,” Thanatos considers aloud. He inspects his reflection in the polished bronze. “Asphodel smells so strongly of sulfur that the inside of my nose still hurts, and Elysium is bright. Much brighter than Tartarus.”

“Is it beautiful?”

Thanatos shrugs. “I suppose. I think it’s meant to resemble ‘sunlight’ and ‘grassy meadows’, so it’s nothing like Tartarus. It’s quite green. And blue. And white.”

“I bet it’s warm,” Hypnos yawns. “Sounds like a nice place to lay down for a bit.”

“You’re just looking for new places to sleep,” Thanatos prods accusingly, though without malice. He lays down his gleaming spear and stretches to a standing position. _I should follow suit_ , he thinks to himself, _so that Achilles doesn’t have to wake me every morning._

“Sounds like a great idea,” Hypnos murmurs as he dozes off. Thanatos climbs into bed next to him and, by his brother’s influence or perhaps his own desire to dream, closes his eyes and rests.

❧

The bending branches of the willow tree whisper overhead, and Thanatos opens one eye mid-meditation to peek at his mentor. Over the past few months, Elysium has grown on him. There is a gentleness that hangs in the air here which helps him clear his thoughts. The same, however, cannot be said for Achilles, who has assumed the proper cross-legged position, but has not stopped staring out at the distant cliffs that disappear into a soft white mist below. “Achilles,” Thanatos says quietly. “Do you miss the surface?”

To his credit, Achilles does not start, and continues looking at something far, far away. “There is little in life that I cannot also find in death, and Lord Hades has been more than generous with me in my time here. Why do you ask, Thanatos?”

Thanatos studies the shade, searching his face for answers, but Achilles offers none by way of expression, so Thanatos just leans back on his palms with a shrug. “You always become quiet whenever we enter Elysium. I thought that perhaps you were feeling nostalgic.”

“It’s something like that.” A breeze rolls through, and Achilles’ expression is secreted away behind a curtain of golden hair. “Tell me, lad, would you like a promotion? I think you’re ready to take over patrols from here on out.”

❧

And so it goes thereafter.

Achilles takes up a more permanent station in the West Wing of the House, keeping unblinking watch over the Central Chamber, but greets Thanatos every morning on his way out with a warm smile and an occasional gyro. Time begins to pass like clockwork.

The Underworld is peaceful, barring individual escape attempts that Thanatos quashes thoroughly, and very publically. The shades learn quickly that size and inexperience are not equivalent.

Each day, he passes the various servants-cum-denizens on his way to the surface: Megaera the Fury, who silently assesses Thanatos each time he passes through her domain; the skeletal Lernean Hydra, simmering away in the scorching magma pools of Asphodel; and the boastful warrior king, Theseus, with the stoic Minotaur, Asterius, at his side. He tries to be professional as he passes through the Elysian Stadium. He _is_ a professional after all. But sometimes he helps herd shade traffic by the arena gates, just to see if he can sneak an autograph. For Hypnos, of course.

Once he weaves his way through the Temple of Styx and reaches the Underworld’s mouth, he says hello to Cerberus, turns around, and heads back down. He always spares a second glance towards the gate, and wonders what calls to him from beyond it.

❧

“Hold it.” Megaera throws out a hand in front of Thanatos, blocking his path into Asphodel. It’s the first time she’s spoken to Thanatos properly in months. She looks frustrated about something, more so than usual, though not necessarily with him.

“Yes?”

“I have a question for you, boy.”

Thanatos’ patient face cracks a little. “…Yes?”

The Fury crosses her arms and averts her eyes for a moment, frowning like she’s trying to find the right words. “The House of Hades,” she says, gaze still turned to the wall, “Tell me what it’s like.”

“I don’t have much to compare it to,” Thanatos answers slowly. When she fails to respond, he shrugs and continues. “It’s much more hospitable than the rest of Tartarus and crammed with shades trying to plead with Lord Hades day in and day out. There’s a lounge, an office, and bedchambers for the house servants.”

“Bedchambers.” Megaera looks pensive. “Do you get your own bedchamber?”

“Well, I don’t, because my twin brother likes to sleep in my room, but in principle, yes.”

“Interesting.” She steps aside without looking at Thanatos again. “You are dismissed.”

“Gee thanks,” Thanatos says with a roll of his eyes. He is probably fortunate that Megaera isn’t paying attention anymore, or else she might have made use of the whip at her side.

❧

One interesting perk of his patrols is getting to see his eldest brother, Charon, in passing. By virtue of his work as the Ferryman of the Dead, Charon very seldom visits the House of Hades himself. It’s an exclusive position, and one which requires a heavy time investment.

They always wave at each other as Charon paddles down river.

❧

Thanatos finds a Soul Catcher Butterfly twitching on the ground, a deep incision in its thorax. It surprises him. The butterflies are native to Elysium, and are always seen flocking about as a swarm, and never without their sphere far behind to reap the rewards of their hunt. He’s never seen one alone like this. The violent pink glow of its wings shudders as it drags itself painstakingly slow across the dirt floor towards him, though it is incapable of doing him any harm in this state. It takes a moment for Thanatos to realize that the butterfly is dying; the host body is nowhere to be seen, apparently having sensed the immutability of its demise and abandoning it here.

He feels… sad.

Kneeling down, Thanatos holds out his hand for the pathetic, crawling creature, trying to give it a final moment’s reprieve.

It struggles onto his finger, and a cold green magic engulfs them both. Pain violently tears up his spine, ripping at him from the inside out like he’s being ripped apart. A pounding, arrhythmic and volatile, rises in his ears, and his breathing becomes harsh, shallow. His head spins, his mouth dries, beads of sweat down his face. He hears his mother’s voice: _Beings like you and I do not have the capacity to fade away as mortals do._ The butterfly settles in the palm of his hand and convulses once before falling still.

Thanatos collapses backwards into the dirt, panting and gasping. Bile burns the back of his throat and his eyes sting, but the agony is gone as quickly as it came.

Distressed, he scrambles to his feet and flees the chamber, butterfly in hand.

The first room, the second, the third all pass in a blink. Something icy curls up in his chest, and he hears the distant ringing of a bell. He squeezes his eyes shut tight but that doesn’t stop the rattling gasp that escapes him, or the green shiver that rushes up his spine and lifts him off the ground.

When his feet hit the floor again, he’s standing outside his mother’s room in Tartarus.

Nyx knows something is wrong the moment he stumbles through the doorway. She sets aside the scroll in her hands and beckons him closer with a concerned gesture. “Thanatos, you have returned early. What happened?”

Thanatos is shaking, but manages to lay the butterfly on her desk. “It died,” he whispers, hoarsely.

“Oh, my child.” She looks between the creature on her desk and her frightened son. Her eyes soften with understanding. “Your powers – you have awakened to your domain.”

“My domain?” He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

His mother gathers him into her arms, cradling his head as he clings to the soft, draping fabric of her peplos. She curls around him like a sweet and gentle darkness and kisses the top of his head. “Thanatos, we as Gods are made in the likeness of mortal conscience. We are representatives of all things they seek to understand. Just as I am the Mother Night and your brother Hypnos is Sleep, you are Death.”

He stands there, unmoving in Nyx’s embrace. She strokes his head, accepting his grim silence with a somber calmness. “Will it always hurt like that?” His voice sounds far away and tiny.

“Mortals die in many ways, Thanatos. Some pass for honor, writhing on the battlefields until they relinquish their final breaths. Others pass for nothing, living to the end of their days and seeking nothing but a blissful rest.”

“Why do they want to understand Death?” Thanatos pulls away from her slowly, a beseeching look in his eyes.

“You are their greatest comfort, and most dire threat, Thanatos. Day follows night, and waking follows sleeping. Weather may change, and war comes and goes, but Death follows life to its end, always.” Nyx gently pulls his hands from her gown and presses something into them. The butterfly lays there listlessly as she covers it with her own palms. Thanatos gasps as slivers of green light burst from between their sealed hands. “They will never cease to think of you, and that sense of wonderment and fear will forever bind you.” When at last the glow subsides, Nyx gently reveals the pierced butterfly. It glints up at Thanatos, crystalline and unmoving.

❧

Every time Thanatos sees a Soul Catcher after that, he reaches into his chiton and squeezes the pin fastened just above his heart.

❧

“- _Very well._ _Your presence in these halls will surely serve as an interesting reminder to those living here, Megaera.”_

On his way out one morning, Thanatos spies Megaera on one knee in deference before Lord Hades’ desk. She has a few bags on the floor at her side.

❧

Cerberus’ threefold barking echoes through the winding Temple of Styx into Elysium. All the shades milling about by the Stadium entrance duck for cover, despite the lack of immediate threat. Thanatos, on the other hand, groans and relinquishes his temporary posting beneath a particularly nice, bronze statue. At least he is close to the exit.

Trudging up the stairs, Thanatos covers his ears. The skull-rattling din grows unbearably loud. “Cerberus, if you’re fussing over that rat again, your master will deny you extra treats for an entire week,” he hollers up the hall, though his shouting is drowned out. “And this time you can’t come whining to me over it, either!”

It doesn’t occur to him that something might be wrong until he rounds the corner, and by then it’s too late. Light pours in through the gateway, and Thanatos cries out. He staggers backwards so quickly that he nearly trips, and flattens his palms over his eyes, choosing the uproarious clamor over the blinding agony blooms behind his eyes.

“Down, puppy – wait no, puppies?” A small, unfamiliar voice panics in the threshold. “Are you technically one dog or three?”

Thanatos’ eyes water painfully as he peeks between his fingers. With blurred vision, he can see the overwhelming silhouette of Cerberus gnashing his three sets of teeth at the vague form of a boy cowering in the open doorway. Magic plucks a pretty tune under Thanatos’ skin and warms the tips of his fingers; he’s never been this close to a living creature before. When he inhales sharply, it feels like the first time.

“Easy now, _”_ the boy calls, looking between the three heads like he is trying to figure out which one is in charge. “I’m not here to cause any trouble, so just let me squeeze past you here _– Hey!”_ There’s a shriek as Cerberus’ middle head snaps him up by the back of his chiton and begins to shake him back and forth like a rag doll. “Mother _just_ mended that sleeve! She’s going to kill me when I get home.”

That’s right. The living don’t belong in the Underworld. They have homes to return to on the Surface.

Raising his fingers to his mouth, Thanatos whistles high and sharp, cutting through the noise. “Cerberus,” he calls, eyes darting to a discarded chunk of Satyr (most likely from a previous mealtime) laying on the ground. The rotting limb almost falls apart in his hand as he grabs it gingerly and waves it for the dog. It smells horrible.

The Hellhound turns one set of eyes toward the “snack” in Thanatos’ hands, and the other two heads follow suit, boy still trapped in his jaws.

“Spit it back out, boy,” Thanatos commands as he inches closer. The tingling in his fingers spreads up to his knuckles. He points to the open gate. “You don’t know where he’s been, and I’d hate to make the maid’s job any harder than it already is.”

The three heads think on it together, but clearly the promise of fresh decay beats out a living treat. With a reluctant growl, Cerberus flings the boy back out with a toss of his head. Thanatos hears the catapulted kid shout and then land with a soft thud beyond his vision.

As if sensing their guest’s exit, the heavy doors begin to slide shut again, the stone grinding against the ground. The flood of sunlight shrinks to a trickle, and Thanatos chucks the bone to Cerberus. It lands with a wet slap and the three heads eagerly descend upon it.

Thanatos wrinkles his nose and wipes his sullied hand on the fabric of his chiton.

“Oh, come on!” A voice filters in through the last sliver of space between the doors. “I may not have another excuse to sneak away for weeks. Please, if you’ll just let me into Tartarus -”

The doors slam shut and all is silent again.

What a strange child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Wow so -- I hope the wait for chapter two wasn't too long. I'm a bit of a slow writer, and this is my first longfic ever, so I appreciate everyone's patience. *huffs & puffs*
> 
> I don't even know how to start thanking you all for the incredible reception of this fic. I'm absolutely blown away, bowled over, and beyond flattered by everyone who has taken the time to read, comment, leave kudos for, and bookmark 'MITHRIDATISM' ;;; I may have cried just a little tbh. I've been having a lovely time writing it, and I hope it's just as good to read!
> 
> If anyone is into social media engagement, I can be found on Twitter @swordgoth where I retweet a LOT of Hades content all the time. But hey, you may also get to see WIPs from time to time too...


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